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This book is set in London and as such uses British English throughout.

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Chapter One

CLAIRE

“Claire Bretton, why is it you get all the good jobs?” Fran leant back in her chair and gave her a huge grin.

Claire knew she was teasing. For a start, she was working as a temp at the law firm and worse, she was supposed to have been on her way out of the building thirty minutes ago. If she hadn’t nipped into the powder room to change into her tee-shirt and jeans,

Isabella Price wouldn’t have caught her in the corridor.

Claire frowned back at her colleague. “Delivering a package to a client is not what I’d planned to do with my evening.

“It’s not so bad. I wouldn’t mind giving up a couple of hours to get the chance of five minutes in the company of Tevis Drummond.” Fran licked her lips salaciously, making Claire laugh.

She pushed the package towards Fran. “Why don’t you take it then?”

Fran held up her hands and laughed. “No way! I’m not going to cross Isabella Price. She’s expecting you to do it, not me.” Fran’s face softened. “Besides, I’ve got a date tonight with Matt.”

There was no chance of getting Fran to do the delivery if she had plans with the new man in her life.

“This was to be the start of my long weekend off.” Claire pushed the package into her messenger bag, tucking it behind her camera. She’d planned to go down to the West End and do some candid shots. That was now out. By the time she delivered the package most of the evening would be gone.

“I wonder why Isabella didn’t place an order with a courier?” Fran mused.

“I don’t know. She seemed keen to have me deliver it by hand on her behalf. She’s even given me two hundred pounds to cover my time and the taxi fares.”

“That’s odd.” Fran looked at Claire thoughtfully as she tied her long hair back into a ponytail. “We have contracts with taxi firms. The fare could have been booked straight to our account.” She frowned as she studied Claire, “She must trust you, to give you this job.”

“I think it’s because I’m the last admin person left here on a Friday night. If I’d been quicker at changing out of my work clothes, I’d have been out of here before she spotted me.”

“No, I don’t think so.” Fran lowered her voice to a whisper. Not that she really needed to, most of the staff had gone. Across the room, only Derek Jones, one of the accountants, was still at his desk. Everyone knew he’d sleep at the office if he could.

Fran gave him a quick glance before continuing. “I think this is hush-hush. Off the record. Isabella Price does everything by the book and not using our courier firm is pretty unusual.”

“Perhaps she wanted this client to get the personal touch? I mean, he must be important.”

“Do you have any idea at all who Tevis Drummond is?”

“No. Though he must be wealthy to afford the services of Isabella.”

“Damn it, Claire, you need to get up to speed on the rich and famous in London if you want to get on. Tevis Drummond could buy this firm several times over and barely see a dent in his bank account.”

Claire grinned back at Fran. “Firstly, I’m a temp. Secondly, I don’t need to know people. When I’ve got the money together to take a year out, I’ll be off.”

“You’ll need to know who they are—if you want to sell your photographs. They’ll be the ones scrambling to buy an original ‘Claire Bretton’.”

Fran pulled open the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out a gossip magazine. Claire hated them, but for Fran they were required reading. She flicked through the pages until she found the one she wanted and passed it over to Claire.

Claire eyed it with distrust, she hadn’t touched one in over ten years, but she couldn’t tell Fran why. With a slight hesitation, she took the offending magazine from Fran’s proffered hand.

Fran pointed to the photograph at the top of the page. “That’s Tevis Drummond.”

Dark-haired, with a serious look on his face, Tevis Drummond’s eyes stared straight at her from the printed page. There was something about the way the photograph was taken that made it look as if he only had eyes for her. Dragging her attention from his mesmerising gaze, Claire scanned the article quickly.

“What are you looking for?”

She looked up at Fran. “I want to know who took this. It’s a great image.”

“Claire! Only you would ignore one of the most eligible bachelors in London to find out who the photographer is.”

“I’m not interested in men. I
am
interested in furthering my career. If I could get someone to look into my camera like that, I’d make a fortune.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, I’ve seen your work. It’s great. Besides, if Tevis Drummond looks as though he’s making love to the camera, there has to be a woman on the other side of it.” Fran stood and picked up her bag. “Take the magazine with you and read it in the taxi, you ought to know who you are meeting.”

“I’m not

meeting

him. I’m delivering a package.”

“Shame, because he’s a hell of a sexy man.”

Yes, he was. Claire could see the attraction in the photograph. He was precisely the type of man she kept well away from. Confident, assured, and well aware of his appeal to women. She’d seen what a man like Tevis Drummond could do.

“I suppose he is,” she responded, not wanting the conversation to take this turn. She felt uncomfortable about it.

“He’s been connected with Eloise Grace.”

“The singer?”

“Yes, you innocent. The singer. I think there’s also something on Eloise in that magazine.”

“Oh.” Now Claire wanted to be out of there. She hated celebrity gossip with a passion, but Fran kept on, not noticing her reticence. She grabbed the magazine out of Claire’s loose grip and flicked over more pages before handing it back.

“There’s a whole article about Eloise. She’s been missing for three weeks. Her management team have no idea where she is. They’re going crazy looking for her, she’s supposed to be picking up some award this weekend.” Fran’s face was animated. Claire had only known her for six months but she knew Fran lived for gossip about celebrities.

The fragile face of Eloise Grace stared back at her. Claire didn’t want to be a voyeur to the young singer’s life but she knew Fran was expecting her to say something.

“Perhaps she wants some quiet time. Celebrity isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.” She tried to pass the magazine back to Fran, but her friend didn’t get the hint.

“No, take it. Read it in the taxi.”

“Okay, thanks.” Claire had no intention of reading the magazine but she didn’t want to offend Fran. She stuffed it into her bag with the package. She’d leave it on Fran’s desk when she got into work on Wednesday morning.

Giving her desk a final check to make sure she’d left nothing behind, she slung her bag over her shoulder and with a quick last smile to Fran, walked out of the office.

An hour, two hours at the worst, and she’d have four days all to herself.

The last of the summer day’s heat hit her as she walked out of the air-conditioned glass building. Most people had left the office almost an hour ago, many going straight to local pubs to have a quick drink with colleagues before heading home for the weekend. Claire had never got into the habit, saving every penny earned for her tour of Europe.

The crisp notes from Isabella were an added bonus, and the reason she hadn’t refused to deliver the package. That, along with valuing the temping job which paid more than most. She might not want to do it, but the money would be useful. If she only took a taxi to Belgravia and then used the underground to go home, she could add a little more to her savings.

She waved at the black cab heading down the street towards her. As he pulled to the kerb, Claire heaved a sigh of relief. Friday nights were often the most difficult to get a passing cab.

Even though she’d been lucky in getting the taxi, Claire had to suffer the frustration of sitting in traffic snarl-ups. As they pulled up in Belgravia, she realised with regret that the taxi fare would take a bigger chunk of the money than she anticipated. Even so, she gave the driver a healthy tip.

“Do you want me to wait?” he asked.

Claire shook her head. “No, it’s fine.” She was definitely using the underground train to go home.

She watched the taxi drive off before turning to look at the mews mansion house belonging to Tevis Drummond. Belgravia was the domain of old money. The houses were worth tens of millions. She grinned to herself. Her little bedsitter room in a shared house would

fit into a cupboard in the building facing her.

Looking upwards she counted five floors of windows in the elegant facade. No, there were six, below street level there was another floor, likely the old servants’ quarters or a kitchen. Stone steps with ironwork railings led down to a door. The window next to it was open and Claire could hear music filtering upwards.

Ignoring the main door with its huge entrance way and ornate stone porch, she headed down the steps and on reaching the door pressed the intercom.

“Who is it?” The voice was male, deep and commanding.

“It’s Claire from…” She didn’t get a chance to finish the sentence.

“Come straight in.”

The catch released and Claire tentatively opened the door and walked into the room. It was a kitchen. Not just any old kitchen. It was chrome, glass and dark wood and looked exceedingly expensive.

The man who’d given her entry had his back to her as he delved through a huge refrigerator.

Claire waited for him to finish.

As he turned, she realised it was Tevis Drummond. Something inside hit her with a jolt, her chest tightened and her stomach somersaulted. He seemed familiar and yet he wasn’t. She’d never met him before.

His blue hazel-flecked eyes narrowed.

Claire was instantly aware of how she looked. Dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and the last of the day’s makeup barely clinging to her face, she felt wanting under his scrutiny. His clothes shouted of ‘expensive casual’, hers of ‘chain store bargain’.

Whatever he thought of her appearance, his face said there was something very wrong and she fidgeted under his dark stare.

“Who the fuck are you?”

His annoyance hit her like a lightning bolt and Claire had to stop herself from stepping backwards as he crossed the room. She hadn’t done anything wrong. The damned man had invited her in.

Now directly in front, he towered over her and she had to let her head drop back to look at him. He was so close she could smell his maleness mixed with a spicy aftershave.

“
You
buzzed me in,” she retorted. No way was she backing down. “I’ve got a package for you.”

She started to fumble with the catches on her bag, all the time keeping her eyes defiantly fixed on his. Now wasn’t the time to lose her temper. Tevis Drummond was a client and she needed to keep this job.

“I was expecting the florist.”

She frowned. “Do I look as if I deliver flowers?”

“Her name is Claire.”

“It happens to be my name too. Look, I think we’ve got off on the wrong foot.” She gave him a tentative smile.

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